by Annie Rains
Dr. Mom’s beeper went off. She looked down at it and frowned. “Oh, I’m sorry, dear. Duty calls. I guess I’ll take the rest of my salad to go. My next patient is ready.” She pushed back from the table and collected her things. “Thanks for meeting me. We’ll have to do this again. Maybe for Thanksgiving in a couple weeks?”
Joy knew from experience that her mom meant that exactly the way it sounded. Thanksgiving here in the hospital cafeteria. Joy had agreed to that invitation many times before. Sometimes her father joined them, and sometimes he didn’t. “Maybe,” Joy said noncommittally.
Or maybe she’d prefer to spend her holiday at Sugar Pines Community Center with Aunt Darby, where she didn’t have to prove she was worthy of sitting down to a meal.
Joy finished off her hot dog while sitting alone and then returned to her car and drove downtown. Janelle’s navy SUV was already in the lot. Joy parked, hurried to the front entrance, and tapped on the glass door.
Janelle whirled to face her, smiling and waving immediately. She walked to the door and opened it. “Hi, Joy. It’s so good to see you.”
“Have you been waiting long?”
“No.” Janelle shook her head, her short, cropped silver hair unwavering with the motion. Janelle wore a steel-gray skirt today with black tights, high heels, and a flowing silk blouse. She looked like an out-of-place New Yorker here in Sweetwater Springs. Which wouldn’t surprise anyone. Several Northerners had found their way to this small mountain valley over the last couple of years and had never left. “I just showed this place to another prospect, actually,” Janelle said.
Joy stepped inside the store and snapped her gaze up to meet Janelle’s. “What?” She guessed she shouldn’t be surprised. The downtown area would be prime real estate for a business owner. “Who?”
Janelle offered an apologetic smile. “I shouldn’t say. But I will tell you that this person is looking at a few locations right now. Not just this one. And I think this spot would be perfect for what you want to do with it.”
Joy relaxed a bit. “Do you mind if I take a look?” she asked, gesturing around the store.
“Of course not. That’s why I’m here.” Janelle took a few steps and leaned against the wall to allow Joy freedom to walk around without her as a shadow.
Joy walked past her and took a closer look at the interior. It had little details that made her love it even more than she’d suspected she would. The ceiling was bordered with crown molding, and the walls were textured, making Joy want to run her hands over the surface. She hesitated only momentarily, and then unable to help herself, she ran her hands over the walls, letting the subtle bumps rub against her fingertips.
Joy’s gaze swept down to her feet where the beige tile with rose-colored highlights was simple and perfect. It wouldn’t distract from the art that she’d display on the walls.
Joy quickly walked across the small store area. There was a bathroom and a storage area in the back. The rest of the store was open. She could see placing a table along the far wall to have some group classes. It’d be perfect!
Joy turned to capture the view from the inside looking out. There was a window display area to set easels with her work. Looking past that, she saw folks strolling along the sidewalk, bags dangling from their arms. This was prime shopping area for locals and tourists. She could imagine people leaving their favorite stores and glancing in her window, spotting a piece of her art or another local artist’s work, and being unable to resist stepping inside.
“I love it,” Joy found herself saying.
Janelle looked pleased as she left the wall and stepped toward Joy, her heels clicking loudly against the beige-and-rose-tile flooring. “Well, I have another prospect coming by on Friday to take a look. So if you love it, you might want to consider acting fast.”
Sudden panic set in. “Another prospect in addition to the one you just showed this store to?” Joy asked.
“Don’t worry yet. The other prospect hasn’t even seen the property yet. But if you’re serious about wanting to lease this storefront as your gallery, tell me sooner rather than later. I’m not the only Realtor showing this place, and I’ve already gotten several calls on it.”
Joy nodded. “Noted. Thank you, Janelle.”
“Anytime.” Janelle handed her a business card. “Call me when you’re ready to make your move.” She winked. “Realtor humor. That line works better for people buying houses, I guess.”
Joy gave an obligatory laugh. Then she glanced at the time on her phone. “I will. I have to go pick up Granger Fields’s girls from school.”
“Oh?”
“I’ll be giving them art lessons for a while.”
Janelle nodded. “Interesting.”
Joy knew her refusal to call herself a caretaker was silly. It was only temporary and Joy was willing to do any and all the odd jobs that came around if it meant opening her art gallery here at this location. “Thank you for meeting me today, Janelle. I’ll be in touch.”
* * *
Granger’s patience was being tested right now, and he was getting a C at best.
“What about the Lewis Farms?” his father asked.
Granger shook his head. “I called them all. The only thing I can think is that we’ll have a limited supply so we’ll need to double our prices this year to make up for that.”
“Double our prices?” His father looked appalled by the idea. Of course he was. “We haven’t raised our prices in ten years. I’d like to keep it that way.”
“Dad…” Granger sighed. He was distracted by the sound of giggling across the house. There was a lot more noise and laughter going on with Joy watching Abby and Willow instead of Mrs. Townsend. “If we don’t raise the cost, maybe we could reconsider reopening the lighted hayride. We have the path and all the supplies. They’re in storage in Grandpa’s old woodworking cabin. It’ll be amazing. We can call the newspaper and get them to run a story on it for publicity and—”
“No.” His father shook his head, his jawline going stiff.
Granger wasn’t finished arguing just yet. “I could run Grandpa’s old tractor and pull the trailer of customers. You wouldn’t have to lift a finger. I’d do everything. Then the community would gather not only to buy our trees but also to experience the hayrides they used to love. Those rides used to be a staple of Sweetwater Springs Christmas festivities.” They used to have a slogan on their sign that read A LITTLE PIECE OF CHRISTMAS ON EARTH. His dad had painted over that a long time ago though. Now it just read MERRY MOUNTAIN FARMS, ESTABLISHED 1971.
His father frowned. “You want to start that up after that child got hurt on our property? We’d be crazy to subject ourselves to that kind of risk again. The Weizer family could have sued us for all we had. We could have lost the farm, you know?”
“We could still lose the farm, Dad,” Granger said pointedly.
“No.” His father shook his head. “We have savings. The farm can lose a little profit this year and still be fine.”
What about the year after that too? It took a lot longer than a year for a tree to grow to full size. “If we don’t do something, we risk losing our customers,” Granger pointed out. “If they go somewhere else for their tree this year, they might not come back to us next time.”
His father’s steel-blue eyes narrowed on Granger. “You think our customers would trade decades of loyalty because we missed one year of providing them with a tree?”
Granger lowered his face to his palm. This was no use.
The girls’ laughter carried into the room again. This was about more than Granger and his dad. More than one year or two. This was also about his girls. Merry Mountain Farms was the family’s legacy. He wanted them to have the option of running it one day if they wanted to. He wanted them to look back at the memories here and consider it a little piece of Christmas on Earth no matter where life carried them.
Granger lifted his face and looked at his dad again. “Last year, you told me you were going to start handin
g over more of the farm’s responsibilities to me. If you want me to be a partner in running this farm, then you should treat me like a partner. You need to at least listen to me.”
“I listened,” his father argued. “But the farm doesn’t need your suggestions unless they’re about how we can get more trees. Check with the farms to the west of us. In Georgia and Tennessee.”
Granger stood. “I’ll do that tomorrow.”
“Where are you going?” his father asked.
Granger didn’t face him. “Someplace where people actually listen to me.” He headed into the kitchen where his mom was preparing the girls’ lunch boxes for tomorrow. “You don’t have to do that.”
She glanced over her shoulder at him. “I know but it’ll save you time. I have dinner baking in your oven too. Your father’s dinner is in the oven at our place so I can’t help you serve it. I told Joy to check on the wings in about thirty minutes.”
Granger felt a little kick in his chest at the mention of his new nanny…art teacher.
“I made enough for her too,” his mom said, not bothering to look over at him this time. “I already invited her to stay. I hope that’s okay.”
Granger sometimes wondered if he should move away from Sweetwater Springs. He was a grown man but his father wouldn’t listen to him and his mom still pushed her agendas, which lately seemed to be nudging him back into the dating arena. “I guess it is.”
“The girls seem to be really enjoying her company today. And Joy is so talented. You should see what they’ve created this afternoon.”
Granger glanced toward the living room. “I’ll check in on them in just a minute.”
His mom zipped up the last lunch box and turned to look at him. She held out her hand and counted off her good deeds on her fingers. “Chicken wings in the oven. The rice is on the stove. There’s also a pot of beans warming. And I made a pitcher of sweet tea. It’s in the fridge.”
“What would I do without you?” Granger asked, giving her a hug.
“I don’t know. You’d probably start dating again.”
Granger pulled back and gave his mom an exasperated look. “That’s old-fashioned, Mom. I don’t need a wife to cook and clean for me. I can do that myself or hire someone.”
“You can’t hire someone to love you though. To listen to you or keep you warm at night, hmm?” She lifted a brow.
Granger didn’t really want to get into how lonesome he was when he went to bed. He reached for Tin who was only a couple of feet away and ran his fingers through the dog’s thick fur. “Tin loves me, don’t you, girl?”
His mom tsked. “A dog’s love is wonderful, yes, but it’s not the same as a woman’s. Okay, I’m going home. Call me if you need me.”
“Take Dad with you,” Granger muttered.
His father stepped into the room, overhearing him. “I’m going, I’m going. And I’ll think about what you said.”
Granger straightened. “Yeah?”
“The part about raising the costs, not the other,” he said.
Granger’s mom put her hands on her hips. “Raising the costs?” she asked in mock horror. “We don’t overcharge our customers. Our customers are our family.”
“It’s called supply and demand. It’s business,” Granger said.
“Family business,” his father amended. “Family is the most important thing. Money, work, and profit—they all come and go. Family sticks together. And our customers are family.”
Granger held his tongue. He’d argued with his dad enough for one afternoon. Instead, he kissed his mom’s cheek and watched them leave out the back door. Then he turned toward the sound of Joy’s and the girls’ laughter, following it this time. He stopped to stand in the entryway of the living room, where the floor was covered in old newspapers. His girls were dressed in painted paper bags that had been cut to become vests and hats.
“Where are my girls and what have you done with them?” Granger asked Joy.
Willow whirled. “We’re right here, Daddy,” she said on a giggle.
Abby smiled. At nine, she was maybe too old for paper costumes but Granger suspected she was doing it for her sister’s sake. And because she looked up to Joy. Abby had always loved to create art. “We did our homework first,” Abby clarified.
Joy beamed. She was also wearing a paper hat. She lifted one up to him. “No need to be jealous. We made you one too. We’re having a dinner party, and it is required tonight,” she said.
“All right.” Granger’s fingers brushed against Joy’s as he took his hat.
He was tired of arguing. He was also tired of pretending he wasn’t wildly attracted to Joy. But he’d have to try. She was his only saving grace this holiday, and he wasn’t going to risk losing her too.
* * *
Joy couldn’t remember the last time she’d sat around a dinner table. And she wasn’t sure she ever had wearing a brown paper bag hat. “Does your mom cook dinner for you guys every night?”
Granger looked up and laughed. “I wish. She cooks a lot better than me.”
“You’re not that bad, Daddy,” Abby said.
His gaze slid over. “Not that bad, huh?” He looked back at Joy, a teasing look in his eyes. “Not sure if that’s a compliment or not.”
“Sometimes your food is good,” Willow added. “You make good peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
Granger shook his head, a self-deprecating smile curling on his mouth. “You two are going to make Joy think that I’m an awful father.”
“I don’t think that,” Joy said, sliding her fork through a mound of beans on her plate. “You must be pretty great because these two girls are always talking about you.”
“And tomorrow, we’re making a special project just for you,” Willow declared. “It’s a secret.”
Granger looked at Joy. “A secret?”
“More of a surprise. Don’t worry. It’s perfectly harmless. The girls tell me that your birthday was a couple weeks ago, and they weren’t able to get you anything.”
Granger looked between Abby and Willow. “You made cards. That was perfect.”
“But Joy is going to help us make you a present tomorrow.”
“It might take a couple nights,” Joy said. “But it’ll be worth it. Homemade presents are the best. That’s what my aunt Darby always says.”
“You have an Aunt Darby?” Abby asked. “Where is she?”
Joy slid some rice into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed before answering. “She lives here in town. I go see her a lot, and we make art together too.”
“Can I come one day?” Abby asked.
“Me too, me too!” Willow chimed in.
“I’m sure my aunt Darby would love that.” Joy laughed softly. Darby had always been fond of kids. “She comes to my art class at the community center a lot. Maybe you could be my assistants for the class I teach there. If your dad agrees.”
“Pleeeease, Daddy,” Abby begged.
“Maybe so.” Granger popped a piece of chicken into his mouth.
“Mrs. Townsend could come too,” Willow said. “We can’t leave her behind. She’d be sad if we left her out. Wouldn’t she, Abby?”
The noise and motion at the dinner table came to an immediate halt.
Joy looked up at Granger. He couldn’t keep putting his daughter off forever. She understood why he wouldn’t want to disappoint Willow but she’d recover. Kids were resilient. A lot more so than adults sometimes.
“We’ll see,” Granger said. “Mrs. Townsend is older. She might just want to hang back while you girls help Joy that day.”
Joy’s mouth fell open. Why was he hesitating? Bad news was like a Band-Aid that needed to be ripped off. “And sometimes, when you get older, you retire from working altogether,” she said pointedly.
Granger met Joy’s eyes, his smile replaced by a grim line now. They stared at one another across the dinner table, warring silently.
“Daddy, is Mrs. Townsend going to retire?” Willow asked. The s
kin between her blue eyes pinched with concern.
Granger broke eye contact with Joy and turned to his daughter.
Joy swallowed, willing him to tell her the truth, even if it was hard. Willow deserved to know that Mrs. Townsend wasn’t coming back as her nanny. The longer he waited to tell her, the harder it would be.
“Well, you see…” He moved his food around on his plate. “Mrs. Townsend is…”
“Mrs. Townsend already retired, Willow,” Abby blurted, looking up and beating him to the punch. “That’s why Joy is here.”
Willow didn’t say anything for a long moment. Her face was a blank canvas. Then she looked at her father. “Is that true?”
Granger cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping to Joy. And Joy got the distinct impression that he wasn’t thrilled with her right now. “I’m afraid so, honey. But we should be happy for Mrs. Townsend. Now she gets to do whatever she wants, anytime she wants.”
A hiccup escaped from Willow’s mouth. “I thought she wanted to play with us. I thought she loved us. Why would she want to leave?” Tears began rolling down her flushed cheeks. “Why did she leave us?” Then she burst into gut-wrenching sobs that had Tin running toward the table to nudge her wet nose into Willow’s thigh.
Joy felt gutted as she watched. This was why Granger hadn’t wanted to tell Willow the truth. Joy had assumed that Willow could handle it but evidently, she couldn’t.
Any woman who stepped into the girls’ lives needed to be someone with staying power. At least when Joy was no longer caring for them after the holidays, she’d still be around to give them art classes. She’d also make a point to stop in for friendly visits. She hadn’t realized what a big deal it was for Granger to trust her with his girls—and here she was tonight, already letting him down.
Chapter Five
Willow? I’m sorry, honey. I know you loved Mrs. Townsend.” Granger knelt by her side.
Willow had her knees curled up to her stomach and her face hidden behind a shield of bent elbows as she sat on her bed. She hadn’t looked up at Granger since she’d darted from the table and run in here.
